


dream a little dream of me

by indigomagnus (holly_violet)



Series: malec oneshots [7]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Don't copy to another site, Ficlet, Fluff, Hurt Alec Lightwood, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Short & Sweet, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Vignette, kind of a, read the notes bc this soulmate au is a lil complicated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 17:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holly_violet/pseuds/indigomagnus
Summary: Magnus Bane has lived for over 400 years, and for the first 380 of those, he didn’t dream.(or, the soulmate au which wouldn't let me sleep until i wrote it)





	dream a little dream of me

**Author's Note:**

> so in this AU, their dreams are what the other is experiencing right at that moment (so they have to be awake and doing something meaningful/important/character-shaping)
> 
> enjoy!!

Magnus Bane has lived for over 400 years, and for the first 380 of those, he didn’t dream.

For warlocks, everyone knew that either meant your soulmate hasn’t been born yet, or slept at almost exactly the same time as you, by some coincidence, for their entire life. Magnus had always assumed, with whatever optimism he had left in him, that it was the former. He was happy to wait.

He had loved many people over the centuries— Imasu, Etta, Camille, mortals, immortals, Downworlders, the occasional Mundane with the Sight. Some of them had never met their soulmate, never had the time or resources to put together the puzzle pieces. Others were like him, centuries old and waiting for the dreams to come. Still others were unlucky— having met their soulmates young and now outlived them by many years, forced to move on by the sands of time.

Magnus was sure he would meet his soulmate someday. It would be a cruel trick played by the universe, if a man so generous, so romantic, so kind, were to live such a long life without meeting the person he was meant to be with.

After Camille, whom he had almost convinced himself was his soulmate, broke his heart, Magnus was almost ready to give up. He moved to London, to research with Ragnor Fell, and hid out there for the better part of the 1980s and 90s. And then the pictures started to come.

At first, they were tantalisingly vague. A runed arm, a park bench, an ice cream. Later, they were sadder— plain, grey walls, a cold Shadowhunter shouting something, endless arrows firing off into the New York skyline.

_ New York. _ A Shadowhunter.

So Magnus moved. Established himself. Became High Warlock. The dreams all but ceased, now that he was in the same timezone as his soulmate. That was to be expected, after all— Magnus sleeps from late at night to early in the morning, he doesn’t expect his soulmate to still be awake, and certainly not experiencing anything exciting or powerful enough to get through to him.

Until, though, one night, about twenty years after he first started dreaming, Magnus had gone to bed at midnight (frankly reasonable) but as he slept, the image behind his eyelids was more vivid than usual, and pretty awful to witness. All he could see, through his soulmate’s tear-blurred eyes, was a punching bag and bloody, unwrapped knuckles striking it over and over, hands shaking as they’re drawn back for another punch. Magnus has no idea what’s wrong, but he recognises the room— in the New York Institute— and vaguely recalls the scars on a hand he’s shaken before. As his soulmate glances down, he sees a prominent rune, just barely visible, on his collarbone.

He doesn’t remember his name. It was told to him in passing by Maryse Lightwood, who he just now realises is the woman who berated his soulmate in a dream which still makes him shiver to think about, seven years ago.

He thinks hard.

The Lightwood children, what were their names? The blonde one was Jace, the little girl Isabelle. They were introduced to him (a little begrudgingly) when he became High Warlock, practically presented by their mother, the stars of the family. There was a baby, Max, who smiled and gurgled at him. 

And then the dark-haired eldest son, who was firing arrows at the target, glossed over by both his parents and moved on from quickly, even as every arrow hit the bullseye.

By the Angel, what was his  _ name.  _ A-something. Arthur. Andrew. 

_ Alexander. _

The next week, by pure chance, he sees Alexander Lightwood take down a circle member in Pandemonium. Days later, he finally, properly introduces himself, and Alec smiles at his bad puns, stammers something, runs off. And Magnus is left thinking,  _ oh. There you are. I’ve been looking for you forever. _

~

Years later, Alec is off on a diplomatic trip somewhere—maybe the Wellington Institute? Or Melbourne perhaps?— and just as Magnus is about to go to bed, alone, he calls Alec.

“Hey, Magnus,” Alec greets him once he picks up the phone. “What time is it there?”

“Ah, 1.30 am?” Alec sighs in response.

“Go to bed! We’re just about to go into our big dinner, and then there’s a gala-party- _ thing  _ which will be  _ super boring  _ without you, then I’ll be home.”

“The bed’s cold without you,” Magnus practically whines, “and I don’t have you here to curl up against, and to kiss goodnight, and to do that thing with your tongue that I like  _ so much,  _ and—”

“ _ Magnus!  _ I’m at work!” Alec hisses, but Magnus can hear the laugh in his voice. “But yeah, I miss you, too. Most of the people here are kind of lame, but they do have some pretty cool sculptures, I’ll send you photos.” Alec starts talking about some asshole who questioned his marriage to a Downworlder, and then about the street food he had when he arrived and the giant eagle statue hanging from the ceiling at the airport, and only slowed down when Magnus yawned. “Oh, shit, it’s late there. Sorry. I’ll shut up now.”

“I promise I don’t mind at all, darling. Keep talking. God knows, I talk enough.”

“Nah, that’s all the interesting stuff.” Alec sighs, and there’s someone talking in the background. “Damn. I have to go. But, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Have fun.”

“I won’t, but I appreciate the sentiment. Love you, miss you.”

“Good night, Alexander. I love you, too.”

“G’night. Dream a little dream of me.” Alec says, more smoothly than usual, and Magnus sputters.

“Did you just quote Ella Fitzgerald at me? You know that song makes me emotional— and you’ve hung up.” Magnus says, mostly to himself, and settles under the covers, a smile plastered across his face entirely of its own accord.

He waited 400 years to meet Alexander Lightwood. He can wait a few more hours to see him safely home.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u enjoyed! i wrote this in a lil notebook at 12 am and it turned out at exactly 1k FUNNY THAT
> 
> my tumblr is [indigomagnus](https://indigomagnus.tumblr.com)  
kudos and comments FUEL me!!
> 
> thx for reading!!


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